CHAPTER 207: RETALIATION

The battlefield stank of burnt stone and iron. Heat shimmered off shattered walls and blackened timbers. Lyra’s bow lay twisted on the cobbles, its string snapped. She herself sprawled half on her side, her body limp, blood seeping from beneath her helm.

"Lyra!"

Inigo skidded across the broken ground, boots scraping on glassed cobbles. He dropped to his knees beside her and rolled her gently onto her back. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused, her lips trembling as though words wanted to form but couldn’t. Her chest rose shallowly, each breath a thin rasp.

"No, no, stay with me," he muttered, voice breaking despite the iron grip he tried to keep on it. His fingers probed along her ribs, her shoulder. The warhammer blow had crushed the lamellar plate, driven force through her entire frame. Her shoulder was broken, her skull ringing, maybe worse. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Her mouth moved faintly, but only a dry sound came out.

"Don’t talk," Inigo said, shaking his head, pressing a bloody glove against her temple. "Don’t you dare. I’ve got this."

A shadow fell across them.

The Lord of Destruction stood thirty paces away, molten gaze fixed on the two of them like a predator amused by its prey. His warhammer dragged sparks where it scraped, cloak of fire curling higher as though feeding on his contempt.

Then he laughed.

It was not rage or triumph—it was mockery, raw and unhurried. The sound reverberated in the ruins like iron cauldrons being beaten hollow.

"So weak," the brute rumbled. "Two gnats daring to bite. And look—" his eyes slid to Lyra, broken on the ground "—a leaf snapped in the wind."

Inigo’s jaw clenched. His hands shook where they held Lyra still, not from fear but from fury so sharp it tasted like metal on his tongue. The bastard wasn’t even pressing his attack. He was savoring it.

Something inside him cracked.

"Fine," Inigo whispered, low enough for only the dying air around him to hear. "You want to see what weak looks like when it’s angry?"

He shoved Lyra gently against the cover of a shattered pillar, stood, and called up the interface only he could see.

He activated the Freedom Shop System.

His eyes narrowed, cursor flicking straight into Artillery. Rows of weapons scrolled past: M777 howitzers, Soviet 2S7 Pions, railgun prototypes. None of them would be enough. He needed something obscene, something that would tear through the Lord’s arrogance in a single stroke.

Then he saw it.

Black Dragon Artillery — Kinetic Rail-Shell System

Price: 25,000 Tokens

Inigo didn’t hesitate. His hand clenched the confirmation rune.

Purchase complete. Balance remaining: 1,693,123 Tokens.

The world flexed—and the air in front of him rippled. Metal screamed into being, and suddenly the ground shook as the Black Dragon Artillery stood there: a monster of steel, obsidian plating, and a barrel long enough to shame siege cannons. Its hydraulic feet bit into the cobbles, stabilizers slamming down like claws. The weapon hummed with barely contained power, a predator waiting for prey.

The Lord of Destruction tilted his head, molten eyes narrowing with something like disdain. "Another toy. Do you think iron makes you strong?"

Inigo climbed the platform, hands slapping against familiar grips as though he’d been born for this. The targeting array flickered into life, its screen overlaying the Lord’s figure with range brackets.

"Kinetic shell," Inigo growled, pulling from the storage bay. A black dart the size of a tree trunk locked into the breech. He pressed both palms against it and etched sigils quick and savage, feeding power into the alloy. Enchantment clung to the round like static, every rune sparking with hungry drive.

"Let’s see if you can laugh," Inigo spat.

The Black Dragon thundered.

The shell screamed downrange faster than sound, a lance of kinetic fury. The Lord braced, cloak flaring, warhammer rising to meet it as though he could simply catch inevitability.

The impact struck with a sound that split the valley.

The warhammer blocked—partially. The kinetic round shattered against him, force transmitting anyway, slamming through his body like a freight train. For the first time, the Lord staggered—not a fraction, but a dozen steps back. His feet carved trenches in the cobbles before sheer will stopped him.

Then the second half of the enchantment bloomed.

The round’s remains detonated outward with a secondary pulse, a kinetic wash Inigo had inscribed himself. The shockwave hit the Lord’s chest square.

The brute was flung.

He didn’t just stumble; he launched. His colossal frame blasted through the air, a comet of fire and molten blood. He crashed into the far mountainside with a roar that drowned the river, stone avalanching down as if the mountain itself rebelled against hosting him.

Inigo stared, chest heaving. His ears rang from the artillery’s roar. "That’s for mocking her."

But fury still roared in his veins. One shot wasn’t enough. Not for what the bastard had done.

He flipped the Shop open again.

Category: Missiles

[ATGMs | Tactical | MLRS | Precision Guided]

His eyes locked on the familiar silhouette.

M142 HIMARS — Guided Rocket System (Full Pod)

Price: 50,000 Tokens

He hit purchase.

The ground shook again as a full HIMARS launcher materialized beside the artillery, its pod armed and glowing with the faint shimmer of guided runes. Inigo climbed, keyed the fire sequence, and marked the still-smoking crater where the Lord had slammed into stone.

"Rain," he growled. "All of it."

The pod’s lids snapped open. Six rockets shrieked skyward, trails of fire carving into the ash-dark sky. They curved as if alive, guidance enchantments latching onto the target. A heartbeat later, the mountainside exploded.

The earth convulsed under the barrage. Fire gouted in pillars. Rock disintegrated under precise, relentless impacts. The Lord of Destruction’s roar cut through the barrage, furious and strained, drowned an instant later under a second wave of detonations.

The ground rumbled like the end of days. Entire shelves of stone peeled away, collapsing into the valley in titanic slides. Flames licked the sky.

Inigo’s teeth bared. "How’s that for weak?"

He didn’t stop. His hand slid back to the Black Dragon’s breech.

Freedom Shop — Ammunition

Black Dragon HE-Shell (High Explosive)

Price: 10,000 Tokens per shell

He bought one without blinking. Tokens burned away; the shell shimmered into his hands.

This one was different—etched already with charge runes, the casing bulging with packed death. He added his own enchantment, pressing kinetic stability into the warhead, steadying the detonation to release at the perfect millisecond.

The shell locked into the barrel with a deep, final clang.

Inigo set his sights again. Smoke poured from the mountainside, fire still raining rock and ash. And there, dragging himself out of the inferno, was the Lord—battered, cloak guttering, molten blood hissing in rivers down his frame. His hammer still burned, but his steps were slower, weight dragging.

Inigo exhaled.

"Say hello to high explosive."

The Black Dragon fired again.

The shell streaked across the valley like the finger of a god. It struck dead-center where the Lord staggered out of the rubble.

The explosion made the world blink.

Light and fire swallowed the mountainside. The detonation blew stone apart in a kilometer-wide blossom. Shockwaves punched the valley flat. A wall of fire rolled outward, searing the river, igniting timbers that hadn’t yet burned. The blast’s echo rolled on and on, as if Eldrath itself had groaned.

When it cleared, half the mountainside was gone.

The Lord of Destruction was nowhere in sight.

Inigo slumped against the Black Dragon’s plating, chest heaving, lungs tasting of ash and cordite. His vision swam, adrenaline burning itself out. The Freedom Shop interface hovered faintly at the edge of his mind, numbers tallying down to a balance that still seemed unreal.

1,683,123 Tokens left. Plenty. But not endless.

He staggered down to Lyra, dropped to his knees beside her again. She was still breathing, faint but steady, her face slack in unconsciousness. He brushed ash from her brow with shaking fingers.

"We’re not done," he whispered, voice hoarse. "But you’ll wake up to know we made him bleed."

Behind them, the artillery and HIMARS still smoked, engines cooling with a predatory hum. The mountain across the valley smoldered, fire running along fresh scars.

The Lord of Destruction was not dead. Inigo knew it in his bones. Something that inexorable didn’t die easy. But he was hurt, thrown back farther than he’d expected, maybe far enough for Eldrath to catch a breath.

Inigo lifted Lyra carefully into his arms, his eyes burning with more than smoke.

"Next time," he said to the ruined horizon. "Next time, you’ll remember our names."

And the valley still trembled, as if the echo of the Black Dragon’s wrath lingered in the bones of the world.

Inigo tightened his grip around Lyra, standing beneath the smoke-dark sky. Somewhere in the distance, he swore he heard the warhammer’s echo still ringing. The Lord would return. But when he did, Inigo promised himself one thing—Eldrath would be ready, and they would not fight alone.